Winnetou

IT is not necessary to say much about myself. First of all because there is not very much to tell of a young fellow of twenty-three, and then because I hope what I have done and seen will be more interesting than I am, for, between you and me, I often find Jack Hildreth a dull kind of person, especially on a rainy day when I have to sit in the house alone with him.

When I was born three other children had preceded me in the world, and my father's dreamy blue eyes saw no way of providing suitably for this superfluous fourth youngster. And then my uncle John came forward and said: "Name the boy after me, and I'll be responsible for his future." Now Uncle John was rich and unmarried, and though my father could never get his mind down to anything more practical than deciphering cuneiform inscriptions, even he saw that this changed the unflattering prospects of his latest-born into unusually smiling ones.

So I became Jack Hildreth secundus, and my uncle nobly fulfilled his part of the contract. He kept me under his own eye, gave me a horse before my legs were long enough to bestride him, nevertheless expecting me to sit him fast, punished me well if I was quarrelsome or domineering with other boys, yet punished me no less surely if when a quarrel was forced upon me,I showed the white feather or failed to do my best to whip my enemy.

"Fear Clod, but fear no man. Never lie, or sneak, or truckle for favor. Never betray a trust. Never be cruel to man or beast. Never inflict pain deliberately, but never be afraid to meet it if you must. Be kind, be honest, be daring. Be a man, and you will be a gentleman." This was my uncle's simple code; and as I get older, and see more of life, I am inclined to think there is none better.

My uncle sent me to the Jesuit college, and I went through as well as I could, because he trusted me to do so. I did not set the college world afire, but I stood fairly in my classes, and was first in athletics, and my old soldier uncle cared for that with ill-concealed pride.

When I left the student's life, and began to look about on real life and wonder where to take hold of it, I was so restless and overflowing with health and strength that I could not settle down to anything, and the fever for life on the plains came upon me. I longed to be off to the wild and woolly West--the wilder and woollier the better--before I assumed the shackles of civilization forever.

"Go if you choose, Jack," my uncle said. "Men are a better study than books, after you've been grounded in the latter. Begin the study in the primer of an aboriginal race, if you like; indeed it may be best. There's plenty of time to decide on your future, for, as you're to be my heir, there's no pressing need of beginning labor."

My uncle had the necessary influence to get me appointed as an engineer with a party which was to survey for a railroad among the mountains of New Mexico and Arizona--a position I was competent to fill, as I had chosen civil engineering as my future profession, and had studied it thoroughly.

I scarcely realised that I was going till I found myself in St. Louis, where I was to meet the scouts of the party, who would take me with them to join the surveyors at the scene of our labors. On the night after my arrival I invited the senior scout, Sam Hawkins, to sup with me, in order that I might make his acquaintance before starting in the morning.

I do not know whether the Wild West Show was unconsciously in my mind, but when Mr. Hawkins appeared at the appointed time I certainly felt disappointed to see him clad in ordinary clothes and not in the picturesque costume of Buffalo Bill, till I reflected that in St. Louis even a famous Indian scout might condescend to look like every-day mortals.

"So you're the young tenderfoot; glad to make your acquaintance, sir," he said, and held out his hand, smiling at me from an extraordinary face covered with a bushy beard of many moons' growth and shadowed by a large nose a trifle awry, above which twinkled a pair of sharp little eyes.

My guest surprised me not a little, after I had responded to his greeting, by hanging his hat on the gas-fixture, and following it with his hair.

"Don't be shocked," he said calmly, seeing, I suppose, that this was unexpected. "You will excuse me, I hope, for the Pawnees have taken my natural locks. It was a mighty queer feeling, but fortunately I was able to stand it. I went to Tacoma and bought myself a new scalp, and it cost me a roll of good dollars. It doesn't matter; the new hair is more convenient than the old, especially on a warm day, for I never could hang my own wig up like that."

He had a way of laughing inwardly, and his shoulders shook as he spoke, though he made no sound.

"Can you shoot?" asked my queer companion suddenly.

"Fairly," I said, not so much, I am afraid, because I was modest as because I wanted to have the fun of letting him find out that I was a crack marksman.

" And ride?"

" If I have to."

" If you have to! Not as well as you shoot, then?"

"Pshaw! what is riding? The mounting is all that is hard; you can hang on somehow if once you're up."

He looked at me to see whether I was joking or in earnest; but I looked innocent, so he said: "There's where you make a mistake. What you should have said is that mounting is hard because you have to do that yourself, while the horse attends to your getting off again."

" The horse won't see to it in my case," I said with confidence- born of the fact that my kind uncle had accustomed me to clinging to high-strung beasts before I had lost my milk-teeth.

"A kicking broncho is something to try the nettle of a tenderfoot," remarked Hawkins dryly.

I suppose you know what a tenderfoot is. He is one who speaks good English, and wears gloves as if he were used to them. He also has a prejudice in favor of nice handkerchiefs and well-kept finger-nails; he may know a good deal about history, but he is liable to mistake turkey-tracks for bear-prints, and, though he has learned astronomy, he could never find his way by the stars. The tenderfoot sticks his bowie-knife into his belt in such a manner that it runs into his thigh when he bends; and when he builds a fire on the prairie he makes it so big that it flames as high as a tree, yet feels surprised that the Indians notice it. But many a tenderfoot is a daring, strong-bodied and strong-hearted fellow; and though there was no doubt that I was a tenderfoot fast enough, I hoped to convince Sam Hawkins that I had some qualities requisite for success on the plains.

By the time our supper was over there was a very good understanding established between me and the queer little man to whose faithful love I was to owe so much. He was an eccentric fellow, with a pretence of crustiness covering his big, true heart; but it was not hard to read him by the law of contraries, and our mutual liking dated from that night of meeting.

We set out in the early dawn of the following morning, accompanied by the other two scouts, Dick Stone and Will Parker, whom I then saw for the first time, and whom I learned to value only less than Sam as the truest of good comrades. Our journey was as direct and speedy as we could make it to the mountain region of New Mexico, near the Apache Indian reservation, and I was welcomed by my fellow-workers with a cordiality that gave rise to hopes of pleasant relations with them which were never realised. The party consisted of the head engineer, Bancroft, and three men under him. With them were twelve men intended to serve as our protectors, a sort of standing army, and for whom, as hardworking pioneers, I, a new-comer, had considerable respect until I discovered that they were men of the lowest moral standards.

Although I had entered the service only for experience, I was in earnest and did my duty conscientiously; but I soon found out that my colleagues were genuine adventurers, only after money, and caring nothing for their work except as a means of getting it.

Bancroft was the most dishonest of all. He loved his bottle too well and got private supplies for it from Santa Fe, and worked harder with the brandy-flask than with his surveying instruments. Riggs, Marcy, and Wheeler, the three surveyors, emulated Bancroft in this unprofitable pursuit; and as I never touched a drop of liquor, I naturally was the laborer, while the rest alternated between drinking and sleeping off the effects.

It goes without saying that under such circumstances our work did not progress rapidly, and at the end of the glorious autumn and three months of labor we found ourselves with our task still unaccomplished, while the section with which ours was to connect was almost completed. Besides our workmen being such as they were, we had to work in a region infested with Comanches, Kiowas, and Apaches, who objected to a road through their territory, and we had to be constantly on our guard, which made our progress still slower.

Personally my lot was not a bed of roses, for the men disliked me, and called me "tenderfoot "ten times a day, and took a special delight in thwarting my will, especially Rattler, the leader of our so-called guard, and as big a rascal as ever went unhanged. I durst not speak to them in an authoritative manner, but had to manage them as a wise woman manages a tyrannical husband without his perceiving it.

But I had allies in Sam Hawkins and his two companion scouts, Dick Stone and Will Parker. They were friendly to me, and held off from the others, in whom Sam Hawkins especially managed to inspire respect in spite of his droll peculiarities. Ihere was an alliance formed between us silently, which I can best describe as a sort of feudal relation; he had taken me under his protection like a man who did not need to ask if he were understood. I was the "tenderfoot," and he the experienced frontiersman whose words and deeds had to be infallible to me. As often as he had time and opportunity he gave me practical and theoretical instruction in everything necessary to know and do in the Wild West; and though I graduated from the high school later, so to speak, with Winnetou as master, Sam Hawkins was my elementary teacher.

He made me expert with a lasso, and let me practise with that useful weapon on his own little person and his horse. When I had reached the point of catching them at every throw he was delighted, and cried out: "Good, my young sir! That's fine. But don't be set up with this praise. A teacher must encourage his stupid scholars when they make a little progress. I have taught lots of young frontiersmen, and they all learned much easier and understood me far quicker than you have, but perhaps it's possible that after eight years or so you may not be called a tenderfoot. You can comfort yourself with the thought that sometimes a stupid man gets on as well as or even a little better than a clever one."

He said this as if in sober earnest, and I received it in the same way, knowing well how differently he meant it. We met at a distance from the camp, where we could not be observed. Sam Hawkins would have it so; and when I asked why,he said: "For mercy's sake,hide yourself, sir. You are so awkward that I should be ashamed to have these fellows see you, so that's why I keep you in the shade--that's the only reason; take it to heart."

The consequence was that none of the company suspected that I had any skill in weapons, or special muscular strength--an ignorance that I was glad to foster.

One day I gave Rattler an order; it was some trifling thing, too small for me to remember now, and he would have been willing to carry it out had not his mood been rather uglier than usual.

"Do it yourself," he growled. "You impudent greenhorn, I'll show you I'm as good as you are any day."

"You're drunk," I said, looking him over and turning away.

"I'm drunk, am I?" he replied, glad of a chance to get at me, whom he hated.

"Very drunk, or I'd knock you down," I answered.

Rattler was a big, brawny fellow, and he stepped up in front of me, rolling up his sleeves. "Who, me? Knock me down? Well, I guess not, you blower, you kid, you greenhorn -"

He said no more. I hit him square in the face, and he dropped like an ox. Fearing mischief from Rattler's followers, and realising that now or never was my authority to be established, I drew my pistol, crying: "If one of you puts his hand to a weapon I'll shoot him on the spot." No one stirred. "Take your friend away, and let him sober up, and when he comes to his senses he may be more respectful," I remarked.

As the men obeyed me, Wheeler, the surveyor, whom I thought the best of the lot, stepped from the others and came up to me. "That was a great blow," he said. "Let me congratulate you. I never saw such strength. They'll call you Shatterhand out here."

This seemed to suit little Sam exactly. He threw up his hat, shouting joyously: "Shatterhand! Good! A tenderfoot, and already won a name, and what a name! Shatterhand; Old Shatterhand. It's like Old Firehand, who is a frontiersman as strong as a bear. I tell you, boy, it's great, and you're christened for good and all in the Wild West."

And so I found myself in a new and strange life, and beginning it with a new name, which became as familiar and as dear to me as my own.

THREE days after the little disciplining I had given Rattler, Mr. White, the head engineer of the next section, rode over to us to report that their work was finished, and to inquire what our prospects were for making speedy connection. When he set out on his return he invited Sam Hawkins and me to accompany him part of the way through the valley.

We found him a very agreeable companion; and when we came to the point where we were to turn back we shook hands cordially, leaving him with regret. "There's one thing I want to warn you of," Mr. White said in parting. "Look out for redskins."

" Have you seen them?" Sam asked.

"Not them, but their tracks. Now is the time when the wild mustangs and the buffaloes go southward, and the Indians follow in the chase. The Kiowas are all right, for we arranged with them for the road, but the Apaches and Comanches know nothing of it, and we don't dare let them see us. We have finished our part, and are ready to leave this region; hurry up with yours, and do likewise. Remember there's danger, and good-by."

Sam looked gravely after his retreating form, and pointed to a footprint near the spring where we had paused for parting. "He's quite right to warn us of Indians," he said.

"Do you mean this footprint was made by an Indian?"

"Yes, an Indian's moccasin. How does that make you feel?"

"Not at all."

"You must feel or think something."

"What should I think except that an Indian has been here?"

"Not afraid?"

"Not a bit."

"Oh," cried Sam, "you're living up to your name of Shatterhand; but I tell you that Indians are not so easy to shatter; you don't know them."

"But I hope to understand them. They must be like other men, enemies to their enemies, friends to their friends; and as I mean to treat them well, I don't see why I should fear them."

"You'll find out," said Sam, "or you'll be a greenhorn for eternity. You may treat the Indians as you like, and it won't turn out as you expect, for the results don't depend on your will. You'll learn by experience, and I only hope the experience won't cost you your life."

This was not cheering, and for some time we rode through the pleasant autumn air in silence.

Suddenly Sam reined up his horse, and looked ahead earnestly through half-closed lids. "By George," he cried excitedly, "there they are! Actually there they are, the very first ones."

"What?" I asked. I saw at some distance ahead of us perhaps eighteen or twenty dark forms moving slowly.

"What!" repeated Sam, bouncing up and down in his saddle. "I'd be ashamed to ask such a question; you are indeed a precious greenhorn. Can't you guess, my learned sir, what those things are before your eyes there?"

"I should take them for deer if I didn't know there were none about here; and though those animals look so small from here, I should say they were larger than deer."

"Deer in this locality! That's a good one! But your other guess is not so bad; they certainly are larger than deer."

"O Sam, they surely can't be buffaloes?"

"They surely can. Bisons they are, genuine bisons beginning their travels, and the first I have seen. You see Mr. White was right: buffaloes and Indians. We saw only a footprint of the red men, but the buffaloes are there before our eyes in all their strength. What do you say about it?"

"We must go up to them."

"Sure."

"And study them."

"Study them? Really study them?" he asked glancing at me sidewise in surprise.

"Yes; I never saw a buffalo, and I'd like to watch them."

I felt the interest of a naturalist, which was perfectly incomprehensible to little Sam. He rubbed his hands together, saying: "Watch them, only watch them! Like a child putting his eye to a rabbit's hole to see the little bunnies! O you young tenderfoot, what I must put up with in you! I don't want to watch them or study them, I tell you, but hunt them. They mean meat--meat, do you understand? and such meat! A buffalo-steak is more glorious than ambrosia, or ambrosiana, or whatever you call the stuff the old Greeks fed their gods with. I must have a buffalo if it costs me my life. The wind is towards us; that's good. The sun's on the left, towards the valley, but it's shady on the right, and if we keep in the shade the animals won't see us. Come on."

He looked to see if his gun, "Liddy," as he called it, was all right, and I hastily overhauled my own weapon. Seeing this, Sam held up his horse and asked: "Do you want to take a hand in this?"

"Of course."

"Well, you let that thing alone if you don't want to be trampled to jelly in the next ten minutes. A buffalo isn't a canary bird for a man to take on his finger and let it sing."

" But I will -"

"Be silent, and obey me," he interrupted in a tone he had never used before. "I won't have your life on my conscience, and you would ride into the jaws of certain death. You can do what you please at other times, but now I'll stand no opposition."

Had there not been such a good understanding between us I would have given him a forcible answer; but as it was, I rode after him in the shadow of the hills without speaking, and after a while Sam said in his usual manner: "There are twenty head, as I reckon. Once a thousand or more browsed over the plains. I have seen early herds numbering a thousand and upward. They were the Indians' food, but the white men have taken it from them. The redskin hunted to live, and only killed what he needed. But the white man has ravaged countless herds, like a robber who for very lust of blood keeps on slaying when he is well supplied. It won't be long before there are no buffaloes, and a little longer and there'll be no Indians, God help them! And it's just the same with the herds of horses. There used to be herds of a thousand mustangs, and even more. Now a man is lucky if he sees two together."

We had come within four hundred feet of the buffaloes unobserved, and Hawkins reined in his horse. In the van of the herd was an old bull whose enormous bulk I studied with wonder. He was certainly six feet high and ten long; I did not then know how to estimate the weight of a buffalo, but I should now say that he must have weighed sixteen hundred ponnds--an astounding mass of flesh and bone.

"That's the leader," whispered Sam, "the most experienced of the whole crowd. Whoever tackles him had better make his will first. I will take the young cow right back of him. The best place to shoot is behind the shoulder-blade into the heart; indeed it's the only sure place except the eyes, and none but a madman would go up to a buffalo and shoot into his eyes. You stay here, and hide yourself and your horse in the thicket. When they see me they'll run past here; but don't you quit your place unless I come buck or call you."

He waited until I had hidden between two bushes, and then rode slowly forward. It seemed to me this took great courage. I had often read how buffaloes were hunted, and knew all about it; but there is a great difference between a printed page and the real thing. To-day I had seen buffaloes for the first time in my life; and though at first I only wished to study them, as I watched Sam I felt an irresistible longing to join in the sport. He was going to shoot a young cow. Pshaw! that, I thought, required no courage; a true man would choose the strongest bull.

My horse was very restless; he, too, had never seen buffaloes before, and he pawed the ground, frightened and so anxious to run that I could scarcely hold him. Would it not be better to let him go, and attack the old bull myself? I debated this question inwardly, divided between desire to go and regard for Sam's command, meantime watching his every movement.

He had approached within a hundred feet of the buffaloes, when he spurred his horse and galloped into the herd, past the mighty bull, up to the cow which he had selected. She pricked up her ears, and started to run. I saw Sam shoot. She staggered, and her head dropped, but I did not know whether or not she fell, for my eyes were chained to another spot.

The great bull, which had been lying down, was getting up, and turned toward Sam Hawkins. What a mighty beast! The thick head with the enormous skull, the broad forehead with its short, strong horns, the neck and breast covered with the coarse mane, made a picture of the greatest possible strength. Yes,.it was a marvellous creature, but the sight of him aroused a longing to measure human strength with this power of the plains. Should I or should I not? I could not decide, nor was I sure that my roan would take me towards him; but just then my frightened horse sprang forth from our cover, and I resolved to try, and spurred him towards the bull. He heard me coming, and turned to meet me, lowering his head to receive horse and rider on his horns. I heard Sam cry out something with all his might, but had no time even to glance at him. It was impossible to shoot the buffalo, for in the first place he was not in the right position, and in the second place my horse would not obey me, but for very fear ran straight towards the threatening horns. The buffalo braced his hind legs to toss us, and raised his head with a mighty bellow. Exerting all my strength, I turned my horse a little, and he leaped over the bull, while the horns grazed my leg.

My course lay directly towards a mire in which the buffalo had been sleeping. I saw this, and fortunately drew my feet from the stirrups; any horse slipped and we both fell.

How it all happened so quickly is incomprehensible to me now, but the next moment I stood upright beside the morass, my gun still in my hand. The buffalo turned on the horse, which had also risen quickly, and came on him in ungainly leaps, and this brought his flank under my fire. I took aim. One more bound and the buffalo would reach my horse. I pulled the trigger; he stopped, whether from fear or because he was hit I did not know, but I fired again, two shots in rapid succession. He slowly raised his head, froze my blood with a last awful roar, swayed from side to side, and fell where he stood.

I might have rejoiced over this narrow escape, but I had something else to attend to. I saw Sam Hawkins galloping for dear life across the valley, followed by a steer not much smaller than my bull had been.

When the bison is aroused his speed is as great as that of a horse; he never gives up his object, and shows a courage and perseverance one would not have expected of him. So this steer was pressing the rider hard, and in order to escape him Sam had to make many turns, which so wearied his horse that he could not hold out as long as the buffalo, and it was quite time that help arrived.

I did not stop to see whether or not my bull was dead. I quickly reloaded both chambers of my gun, and ran across the grass towards Sam. He saw me, and turned his horse in my direction. This was a great mistake, for it brought the horse's side towards the steer behind him. I saw him lower his horns, and in an instant horse and rider were tossed in the air, and fell to the ground with a dreadful thud. Sam cried for help as well as he could. I was a good hundred and fifty feet away, but I dared not delay, though the shot would have been surer at shorter range. I aimed at the steer's left shoulder-blade and fired. The buffalo raised his head as if listening, turned slowly, then ran at me with all his might. Luckily for me, his moment of hesitation had given me time to reload, and therefore I was ready for him by the time the beast had made thirty paces towards me. He could no longer run; his steps became slow, but with deep-hanging head and protruding, bloodshot eyes he came nearer and nearer to me, like some awful, unavoidable fate. I knelt down and brought my gun into position. This movement made the buffalo halt and raise his head a little to see me better, thus bringing his eyes just in range of both barrels. I sent one shot into the right, another into the left eye; a quick shudder went through his body, and the beast fell dead.

Springing to my feet, I rushed toward Sam; but it was not necessary, for I saw him approaching.

"Hallo!" I cried, "are you alive?"

"Very much so, only my left hip pains me, or the right; I'm sure I can't tell which."

"And your horse?"

"Done for; he's still alive, but he's torn past help. We'll have to shoot him to put him out of his misery, poor fellow. Is the buffalo dead?"

I was not able to answer this question positively, so we made sure that there was no life in my former foe, and Hawkins said: "He treated me pretty badly, this old brute; a cow would have been gentler, but I suppose you can't expect such an old soldier to be lady-like. Let us go to my poor horse."

We found him in a pitiable condition, torn so that his entrails protruded, and groaning with agony. Sam loaded, and gave the poor creature the shot that ended his suffering, and then he removed the saddle and bridle, saying: "I'll be my own horse, and put these on my back."

"Where will you get another horse?" I asked.

"That's the least of my troubles; I'll find one unless I'm mistaken."

"A mustang?"

"Yes. The buffaloes are here; they've begun travelling southward, and soon we'll see the mustangs, I'm sure of that."

"May I go with you when you catch one?"

"Sure; you'll have to learn to do it. I wonder if that old bull is dead; such Mathusalas are wonderfully tough."

But the beast was dead, as we found on investigation; and as he lay there I realized more fully what a monster he was. Sam looked him over, shook his head, and said: "It is perfectly incredible. Do you know what you are?"

"What?"

"The most reckless man on earth."

"I've never been accused of recklessness before."

"Well, now you know that 'reckless' is the word for you. I forbade you meddling with a buffalo or leaving your hiding-place; but if you were going to disobey me, why didn't you shoot a cow?"

" Because this was more knightly."

"Knightly! Great Scott! This tenderfoot wants to play knight!" He laughed till he had to take hold of the bushes for support, and when he got his breath he cried: "The true frontiersman does what is most expedient, not what's most knightly."

"And I did that, too."

"How do you make that out?"

"That big bull has much more flesh on him than a cow."

Sam looked at me mockingly. "Much more flesh!" he cried. "And this youngster shot a bull for his flesh! Why, boy, this old stager had surely eighteen or twenty years on his head, and hiS flesh is as hard as leather, while the cow's flesh is fine and tender. All this shows again what a greenhorn you are. Now go get your horse, and we'll load him with all the meat he can carry."

In spite of Sam's mocking me, that night as I stood unobserved in the door of the tent where he and Stone and Parker sat by their fire I heard Sam say: "Yes, sir, he's going to be a genuine Westerner; he's born one. And how strong he is! Yesterday he drew our great oxcart alone and single-handed. Now to-day I owe him my life. But we won't let him know what we think of him."

" Why not?" asked Barker.

"It might swell his head," replied Sam. "Many a good fellow has been spoiled by praise. I suppose he'll think I'm an ungrateful old curmudgeon, for I never even thanked him for saving my life. But to-morrow I'll give him a treat; I'll take him to catch a mustang, and, no matter what he thinks, I know how to value him."

I crept away, pleased with what I had heard, and touched by the loving tone of my queer friend's voice as he spoke of me.

THE next morning as I was going to work Sam came to me, saying: "Put down your instruments; we have something on hand more interesting than surveying."

"What is it?"

"You'll see. Get your horse ready; we're going to ride."

"And how about the work?"

"Nonsense! You've done your share. However, I expect to be back by noon, and then you can measure as much as you will."

After arranging with Bancroft for my absence, we started; and as Sam made a mystery of the object of our expedition, I said nothing to show that I suspected what it was.

We went back of the ravine where we were surveying to a stretch of prairie which Sam had pointed out the day before. It was two good miles broad, and surrounded by woody heights, from which flowed a brook irrigating the plain. We rode to the westerly boundary, where the grass was freshest, and here Sam securely tied his horse--his borrowed horse - and let him graze. As he looked about him an expression of satisfaction shone on his rugged face, like sunshine on rocks. "Dismount, sir," he said, "and tie your horse strong; we'll wait here."

"Why tie him so strongly?" I asked, though I knew well.

"Because you might lose him. I have often seen horses go off with such companions."

"Such companions as what?" I asked.

"Try to guess."

"Mustangs?"

"How did you know?"

"I've read that if domestic horses weren't well tied they'd join the wild ones when a herd came along."

"Confound it! you've read so much a man can't get the best of you."

"Do you want to get the best of me?"

"Of course. But look, the mustangs have been here."

"Are those their tracks?"

"Yes; they went through here yesterday. It was a scouting party. Let me tell you that these beasts are uncommonly sharp. They always send out little advance-parties, which have their officers exactly like soldiers, and the commander is the strongest and most erperienced horse. They travel in circular formation, stallions outside, mares next them inside, and the foals in the middle, in order that the males may protect the mares and young. I have already shown you how to catch a mustang with a lasso; do you remember? Would you like to capture one?"

"Certainly I would."

"Well, you'll have a chance before noon to-day."

"Thanks, but I don't intend to catch one."

"The dickens you don't! And why not?"

"Because I don't need a horse."

"But a real frontiersman never asks whether he needs a horse or not."

"Now look here, Sam; only yesterday you were speaking of the brutal way the white men, though they do not need meat, kill the buffaloes in masses, depriving the Indians of their food. We agreed that was a crime against beasts and men."

"Assuredly."

"This is a similar case. I should do wrong to rob one of these glorious fellows of his freedom unless I needed a horse."

"That's well said, young man; bravely said. Any man, any Christian worth calling so, would feel thus; but who said anything about robbing him of his freedom? Just put your education in lasso-throwing to the proof, that's all."

"That's a different thing; I'll do that."

"All right; and I'll use one in earnest, for I do need a horse. I've often told you, and now I'll say again: Sit strong in your saddle, control your horse well when you feel the lasso tighten, and pull; for if you don't you'll be unseated, and the mustang will gallop off, taking your horse and lasso with him. Then you'll lose your mount and be, like me, only a common footsoldier."

He was about to give more advice, but stopped suddenly, and pointed to the northern end of the prairie. There stood a horse, one single, solitary horse. He walked slowly forward, not stopping to graze, turning his head first to one side, then to the other, snuffing the air as he came.

"Do you see?" whispered Sam. "Didn't I tell you they'd come? That's the scout come on ahead to see if all's safe. He's a wise beast! See how he looks in all directions! He won't discover us, though, for we have the wind towards us."

The mustang broke into a trot, running to the right, then to the left, and finally turned and disappeared as we had seen him come.

"Did you see him?" cried Sam admiringly. "How wise he is! An Indian scout could not have done better."

"That's so; I'm surprised at him."

"Now he's gone back to tell his general the air is pure. How we fooled him! They'll all be here shortly. You ride back to the other end of the prairie, and wait there, while I go towards them and hide in the trees. When they come I'll chase them, and they'll fly in your direction; then you show yourself, and they'll turn back towards me. So we'll drive them back and forth till we've picked out the two best horses, and we'll catch them and choose between them. Do you agree?"

"How can you ask? I know nothing of the art of mustang-catching, of which you are past master, and I've nothing to do but follow your directions."

"All right. I have caught mustangs before to-day, and I hope you're not far wrong in calling me a 'master' of that trade. Now let's take our places."

We turned and rode in opposite directions, he northward, I southward to the spot where we had entered the prairie. I got behind some little trees, made one end of the lasso fast, and coiled the other ready for use. The further end of the prairie was so far off that I could not see the mustangs when they first appeared, but after I had been waiting a quarter of an hour I saw what looked like a dark cloud rapidly increasing in size and advancing in my direction. At first it seemed to be made up of objects about as big as sparrows,then they seemed like cats, dogs, calves, and at last I saw them in their own proportions. They were the mustangs in wild gallop, coming towards me. What a sight these lordly beasts were, with their manes flying about their necks, and their tails streaming like plumes in the wind! There were at least three hundred head, and the earth seemed to tremble beneath the pounding of their hoofs. A white stallion led them, a noble creature that any man might be glad to capture, only no prairie hunter would ride a white horse, for he would be too conspicuous to his enemies.

Now was the time to show myself. I came out, and the startled leader sprang back as though an arrow had pierced him. The herd halted; one loud, eager whinny from the white stallion which plainly meant: Wheel, squadron! and the splendid fellow turned, followed by all his companions, and tore back whence they had come. I followed slowly; there was no hurry, for I knew Sam Hawkins would drive them back to me. I wanted to make sure I was right in what I had seen, for in the brief instant the herd had halted it seemed to me that one of them was not a horse, but a mule. The animal that I thought a mule had been in the front ranks, immediately behind the leader, and so seemed not merely to be tolerated by its companions, but to hold honorable rank among them.

Once again the herd came towards me, and I saw that I was not mistaken, but that a mule really was among them, a mule of a delicate light brown color, with dark back-stripe, and which I thought had the biggest head and the longest ears I had ever seen. Mules are more suitable for rough mountain-riding than horses, are surer-footed, and less likely to fall into abysses--a fact worth consideration. To be sure they are obstinate, and I have known a mule be beaten half to death rather than take another step, not because it was overladen or the way was hard, but simply because it would not. It seemed to me that this mule showed more spirit than the horses, and that its eyes gleamed brighter and more intelligently than theirs, and I resolved to capture it. Evidently it had escaped from its former owner and joined the mustangs.

Now once more Sam turned the herd, and we had approached each other till I could see him. The mustangs could no longer run back and forth; they turned to the side, we following them. The herd had divided, and I saw that the mule was with the more important part, still keeping beside the white horse, and proving itself an unusually strong and swift animal. I pursued this band, and Sam seemed to have the same design.

"Get around them; I left, you right," he shouted.

We spurred our horses, and not only kept up with the mustangs, but rode so swiftly that we headed them off from the woods. They began to scatter to all sides like chickens when a hawk swoops down among them; and as we both chased the white stallion and the mule, Sam cried: "You'll always be a greenhorn. Who else would pick out a white horse?"

I answered him, but his loud laugh drowned my reply, and if he thought I was after the white horse it did not much matter. I left the mule to his tender care, and in a moment he had come so near her that he threw the lasso.

The noose encircled the beast's neck, and now Sam had to hold on as he had directed me to do, and throw himself backward to make the lasso hold when it tautened. This he did, but a moment too late; his horse did not obey on the instant, and was thrown by the force of the jerk. Sam flew through the air, and landed on the ground with a thump. The horse shook himself free, and was up and off in a moment, and the mule with him, since the lasso was fast to the saddle-bow.

I hastened to see if Sam was hurt, and found him standing, much shaken, but not otherwise the worse. He said to me in mournful tones: "There go Dick Stone's chestnut and the mule without saying good-by."

"Are you hurt?"

"No. Jump down and give me your horse."

"What for?"

"To catch them, of course. Hurry up. '

"Not much; you might turn another somersault, and then both our horses would be gone to the four winds." With these words I put my horse after the mule and Dick's horse. Already they were in trouble, one pulling one way, the other another, and held together by the lasso, so I could easily come up with them. It never entered my head to use my lasso, but I grabbed the one holding them, wound it around my hand, and felt sure the day was won. I drew the noose tighter and tighter, thus easily controlling the mule, and brought her back, together with the horse, in apparent subjection to where Sam stood.

Then I suddenly pulled the noose taut, when the mule lost her breath and fell to the ground.

"Hold on fast till I have the rascal, and then let go," shouted Sam, springing to the side of the prostrate beast. "Now!" he cried.

I let go the lasso, and the mule instantly jumped up, but not before Sam was on her back. She stood motionless a moment in surprise, then rushed from side to side, then stood first on her hind legs, then on her fore legs, and finally jumped into the air with all four bunched together, and her back arched like a cat's. But still little Sam sat fast.

"Don't get near; she's going to try her last hope and run away, but I'll bring her back tamed," shouted Sam.

He proved to be mistaken, however; she only ran a little way, and then deliberately lay down and rolled. This was too much for Sam's ribs; he had to get out of the saddle. I jumped from my horse, seized the lasso, and wound it around some tough roots near at hand. The mule, finding she had no rider, got up and started to run off; but the roots were strong, the noose drew tight, and again the animal fell. Sam had retired to one side, feeling his legs and ribs, and making a face as if he had eaten sauerkraut and marmalade.

"Let the beast go," he said. "I believe nobody can conquer her."

"Well, I guess not," said I. "No animal whose father was no gentleman, but a donkey, is going to shame me. She's got to mind me. Look out."

I unwound the lasso from the bushes, and stood astride the mule, which at once got up, feeling herself freed. Now it was a question of strength of legs, and in this I far surpassed Sam. If a rider presses his beast's ribs with strong knees it causes intense pain. As the mule began to try to throw me as she had Sam, I caught up the lasso, half hanging on the ground, and fastened it tight behind the noose. This I drew whenever she began any of her tricks, and by this means and pressure of the knees I contrived to keep her on all fours.

It was a bitter struggle, strength against strength. I began to sweat from every pore, but the mule was dripping, and foam fell from her lips in great flakes. Her struggles grew more and more feeble, her heavy breathing became short gasps, till at last she gave in altogether, not willingly, but because she was at her last limit, and stood motionless with bulging eyes. I drew long, deep breaths; it seemed to me as if every bone and sinew in my body were broken.

"Heavens! what a man you are!" cried Sam. "You're stronger than the brute! If you could see your face you would be scared; your eyes are staring, your lips are swollen, your cheeks are actually blue."

"I suppose so; that comes of being a tenderfoot who won't be beaten, while his teacher gives in and lets a horse and a mule conquer him."

Sam made a wry face. "Now let up, young fellow. I tell you the best hunter gets whipped some times."

"Very likely. How are your ribs and other little bones?"

"I don't know; I'll have to count 'em to find out. That's a fine beast you have under you there."

"She is indeed. See how patiently she stands; one feels sorry for her. Shall we saddle and bridle her and go back?"

The poor mule stood quiet, trembling in every limb; nor did she try to resist when we put saddle and bridle on her, but obeyed the bit like a well-broken horse. "She's had a master before," said Sam. "I'm going to call her Nancy, for I once had a mule by that name, and it's too much trouble to get used to another. And I'm going to ask you to do me a favor."

"Gladly; what is it?"

"Don't tell at the camp what has happened this morning, for they'd have nine days' sport with me."

"Of course I won't; you're my teacher and friend, so I'll keep your secrets."

His queer face lighted up with pleasure. "Yes, I'm your friend, and if I knew you had a little liking for me, my old heart would be warmed and rejoiced."

I stretched out my hand to him, surprised and touched. "I can easily give you that pleasure, dear Sam," I said. "You may be sure I honestly care for you with real respect and affection."

He shook my hand, looking so delighted that even my young self-sufficiency could perceive how lonely this rough, cranky old frontiersman was, and how great was his yearning for human sympathy.

I fastened Dick Stone's horse with the lasso, and mounting mine, as Sam got on Nancy, we rode away.

"She's been educated, this new Nancy, in a very good school," Sam remarked presently. "I see at every step she is going to be all right, and is regaining the old knowledge which she had forgotten among the mustangs. I hope she has not only temperament but character."

"We've had two good days, Sam," I said.

"Bad ones for me, except in getting Nancy; and bad for you, too, in one way, but mighty honorable."

"Oh, I've done nothing; I came West to get experience. I hope to have a chance at other sport."

"Well, I hope it will come more easily; yesterday your life hung by a hair. You risked too much. Never forget you're a greenhorn tenderfoot. The idea of creeping up to shoot a buffalo in the eye! Did ever any one hear the like? But though hunting buffaloes is dangerous, bear-hunting is far more so."

"Black bear?"

"Nonsense! The grizzly. You've read of him?"

"Yes."

"Well, be glad you don't know him outside of books; and take care you don't, for you might have a chance to meet him. He sometimes comes about such places as this, following the rivers even as far as the prairie. I'll tell you more of him another time; here we are at the camp."

"A mule, a mule! Where did you get her, Hawkins?" cried all the men.

"By special delivery from Washington, for a ten-cent stamp. Would you like to see the envelope?" asked Sam, dismounting.

Though they were curious, none asked further quesdtions, for, like the beast he had captured, when Sam wouldn't he wouldn't, and that was the end of it.

THE morning after Sam and I had caught Miss Nancy we moved our camp onward to begin labor on the next section of the road. Hawkins, Stone, and Parker did not help in this, for Sam was anxious to experiment further with Nancy's education, and the other two accompanied him to the prairie, where they had sufficient room to carry out this purpose. We surveyors transferred our instruments ourselves, helped by one of Rattler's men, while Rattler himself loafed around doing nothing.

We came to the spot where I had killed the two buffaloes, and to my surprise I saw that the body of the old bull was gone, leaving a broad trail of crushed grass that led to the adjoining thicket.

"I thought you had made sure both bulls were dead," Rattler exclaimed. "The big one must have had some life in him."

" Think so?" I asked.

"Of course, unless you think a dead buffalo can take himself off."

"Must he have taken himself off? Perhaps it was done for him."

" Yes, but who did it?"

" Possibly Indians; we saw an Indian's footprint over yonder."

"You don't say! How well a greenhorn can explain things!" sneered Rattler. "If it was done by Indians, where do you think they came from? Dropped from the skies? Because if they came from anywhere else we'd see their tracks. No, there was life in that buffalo, and he crawled into the thicket, where he must have died. I'm going to look for him."

He started off, followed by his men. He may have expected me to go, too, but it was far from my thoughts, for I did not like the way he had spoken. I wanted to work, and did not care a button what had become of the old bull. So I went back to my employment, and had only just taken up the measuring-rod, when a cry of horror rang from the thicket, two, three shots echoed, and then I heard Rattler cry: "Up the tree, quick! up the tree, or you're lost! he can't climb."

Who could not climb? One of Rattler's men burst out of the thicket, writhing like one in mortal agony.

"What is it? What's happened?" I shouted.

"A bear, a tremendous grizzly bear!" he gasped, as I ran up to him.

And within the thicket an agonised voice cried: "Help, help! He's got me!" in the tone of a man who saw the jaws of death yawning before him.

Evidently the man was in extreme danger, and must be helped quickly, but how? I had left my gun in the tent, for in working it hindered me; nor was this an oversight, since we surveyors had the frontiersmen purposely to guard us at our work. If I went to the tent to get the gun, the bear would have torn the man to shreds before I could get back; I must go to him as I was with a knife and two revolvers stuck in my belt, and what were these against a grizzly bear?

The grizzly is a near relation of the extinct cave-bear, and really belongs more to primeval days than to the present. It grows to a great size, and its strength is such that it can easily carry off a deer, a colt, or a young buffalo cow in its jaws. The Indians hold the killing of a grizzly a brilliant feat, because of its absolute fearlessness and inexhaustible endurance.

So it was to meet such a foe that I sprang into the thicket. The trail led further within, where the trees began, and where the bear had dragged the buffalo. It was a dreadful moment. Behind me I could hear the voices of the engineers; before me were the frontiersmen screaming, and between them and me, in indescribable agony, was their companion whom the bear had seized.

I pushed further in, and heard the voice of the bear; for, though this mighty beast differs from others of the bear family in not growling, when in pain or anger it utters something like a loud, harsh breathing and grunting.

And now I was on the scene. Before me lay the torn body of the buffalo, to right and left were the men, who were comparatively safe, having taken to the trees, which a grizzly bear seldom has been known to climb, if ever. One of the men had tried to get up a tree like the others, but had been overtaken by the bear. He hung by both arms hooked to the lowest limb, while the grizzly reached up and held him fast with its fore paws around the lower part of his body.

The man was almost dead; his case was hopeless. I could not help him, and no one could have blamed me if I had gone away and saved myself. But the desperation of the moment seemed to impel me onward. I snatched up a discarded gun, only to find it already emptied. Taking it by the muzzle I sprang over the buffalo, and dealt the bear a blow on the skull with all my might. The gun shattered like glass in my hand; even a blow with a battle-axe would have no effect on such a skull; but I had the satisfaction of distracting the grizzly's attention from its victim.

It turned its head toward me, not quickly, like a wild beast of the feline or canine family, but slowly, as if wondering at my stupidity. It seemed to measure me with its little eyes, deciding between going at me or sticking to its victim; and to this slight hesitation I owe my life, for in that instant the only possible way to save myself came to me. I drew a revolver, sprang directly at the bear, and shot it, once, twice, thrice, straight in the eyes, as I had the buffalo.

Of course this was rapidly done, and at once I jumped to one side, and stood still with my knife drawn. Had I remained where I was, my life would have paid for my rashness, for the blinded beast turned quickly from the tree, and threw itself on the spot where I had stood a moment before. I was not there, and the bear sought nine with angry mutterings and heavy breathing. It wheeled around like a mad thing, hugged itself, rose on its hind legs, reaching and springing all around to find me, but fortunately I was out of reach. Its sense of smell would have guided it to me, but it was mad with rage and pain, and this prevented its instinct from serving it.

At last it turned its attention more to its misfortune than to him who had caused it. It sat down, and with sobs and gnashing of teeth laid its fore paws over its eyes. I was sorry that necessity for saving human life was causing the big fellow such pain, and, with pity for it, as well as desire for my own safety, tried to make it short. Quietly I stood beside it and stabbed it twice between the ribs. Instantly it grabbed for me, but once more I sprang out of the way. I had not pierced its heart, and it began seeking me with redoubled fury. This continued for fully ten minutes. It had lost a great deal of blood, and evidently was dying; it sat down again to mourn its poor lost eyes. This gave me a chance for two rapidly repeated knife-thrusts, and this time I aimed better; it sank forward, as again I sprang aloof, made a feeble step to one side, then back, tried to rise, but had not sufficient strength, swayed back and forth in trying to get on its feet, and then stretched out and was still.

"Thank God!" cried Rattler from his tree, "the beast is dead. That was a close call we had."

"I don't see that it was a close call for you," I replied. "You took good care of your own safety. Now you can come down."

"Not yet; you make sure it's truly dead."

"It is dead."

" You don't know; you haven't an idea how tough such a creature is. Go examine it."

"If you doubt me, examine it yourself; you're an experienced frontiersman, and I'm a tenderfoot, you know."

So saying I turned to his comrade, who still hung on the tree in an awful plight. His face was torn, and his wide-open eyes were glassy, the flesh was stripped from the bones of his legs, and he was partly disembowelled. I conquered the horror of the sight enough to say: "Let go, my poor fellow; I will take you down." He did not answer, or show any sign of having heard me, and I called his comrades to help me. Only after I had made sure the bear was dead would the courageous gang come down from their trees, when we gently removed the wounded man. This required strength to accomplish, for his arms had wound tightly around the tree, and stiffened there: he was dead.

This horrible end did not seem to affect his companions in the least, for they turned from him to the bear, and their leader said: "Now things are reversed; the bear meant to eat us, but we will eat it. Quick, you fellows, take its pelt, and let us get at the paws and steak."

He drew his knife and knelt down to carry out his words, but I checked him. "It would have been more fitting if you had used your knife when it was alive. Now it's too late; don't give yourself the trouble."

"What!" he cried. "Do you mean to hinder me?"

"Most emphatically I do, Mr. Rattler."

"By what right?"

"By the most indisputable right. I killed that bear."

"That's not so. Maybe you think a greenhorn can kill a grizzly with a knife! As soon as we saw it we shot it."

"And immediately got up a tree! Yes, that's very true."

"You bet it's true, and our shots killed it, not the two little needle-pricks of your knife. The bear is ours, and we'll do with it what we like. Understand?"

He started to work again, but I said coolly: "Stop this minute, Rattler. I'll teach you to respect my words; do you understand?" And as he bent forward to stick the knife into the bear's hide I put both arms around his hips and, raising him, threw him against the next tree so hard that it cracked. I was too angry just then to care whether he or the tree broke, and as he flew across the space I drew my second and unused revolver, to be ready for the next move.

He got up, looked at me with eyes blazing with rage, drew his knife, and cried: "You shall pay for this. You knocked me down once before; I'll see it doesn't happen a third time." He made a step towards me, but I covered him with my pistol, saying: "One step more and you'll have a bullet in your head. Drop that knife. When I say 'three' I'll shoot you if you still hold it. Now: One, two -" He held the knife tight, and I should have shot him, not in the head, but in the hand, for he had to learn to respect me; but luckily I did not get so far, for at this moment a loud voice cried: "Men, are you mad? What reason have the whites to tear out one another's eyes? Stop!"

We looked in the direction whence the voice came, and saw a man appearing from behind the trees. He was small, thin, and hunchbacked, clad and armed like a red man. One could not tell whether he was an Indian or a white; his sharp-cut features indicated the former, while the tint of his face, although sunburned, was that of a white man. He was bareheaded, and his dark hair hung to his shoulders. He wore leather trousers, a hunting-shirt of the same material, and moccasins, and was armed with a knife and gun. His eyes shone with unusual intelligence, and there was nothing ridiculous in his deformity. Indeed, none but stupid and brutal men ever laugh at bodily defects; but Rattler was of this class, for as soon as he looked at the new-comer he cried:

"Hallo! What kind of a freak comes here? Do such queer things grow in the big West?"

The stranger looked at him calmly, and answered quietly: "Thank God that your limbs are sound. It is by the heart and soul that men are judged, and I should not fear a comparison with you in those respects."

He made a gesture of contempt, and turned to me, saying: "You are strong, young sir; it is not every one can send a man flying through the air as you did just now; it was wonderful to see." Then touching the grizzly with his foot, he added: "And this is the game we wanted, but we came too late. We discovered its tracks yesterday, and followed over hill and dale, through thick and thin, only to find the work done when we came up with it."

"You speak in the plural; are you not alone?" I asked.

"No; I have two companions with me. But before I tell you who they are, will you introduce yourselves? You know one cannot be too cautious here, where we meet more bad men than good ones." He glanced significantly at Rattler and his followers, but instantly added in a friendly tone: "However, one can tell a gentleman that can be trusted. I heard the last part of your discussion, and know pretty well where I stand."

"We are surveyors, sir," I explained. "We are locating a railroad to go through here."

"Surveyors! Have you purchased the right to build your road?"

His face became stern as he asked the question, for which he seemed to have some reason; so I replied: "I have occupied myself with my task, and never thought of asking."

"Ah,yes; but you must know where you are. Consider these lands whereon we stand are the property of the Indians; they belong to the Apaches of the Mascaleros tribe. I am sure, if you are sent to survey, the ground is being marked out by the whites for some one else."

"What is that to you?" Rattler cried. "Don't bother yourself with the affairs of others. Any one can see you are a white man."

"I am an Apache, one of the Mascaleros," the stranger said quietly. "I am Kleki-Petrah."

This name in the Apache tongue is equivalent to White Father, and Rattler seemed to have heard it before. He bowed with mock deference, and said: "Ah, Kleki-Petrah, the venerated school-master of the Apaches! It's a pity you are deformed, for it must annoy you to be laughed at by the braves."

"They never do that, sir. Well-bred people are not amused by such things, and the braves are gentlemen. Since I know who you are and why you are here, I will tell you who my companions are, or perhaps you had better meet them."

He called in the Indian tongue, and two extraordinarily interesting figures appeared, and came slowly towards us. They were Indians, father and son, as one could see at the first glance. The elder was a little above medium height, very strongly built. His air was truly noble; his earnest face was of pure Indian type, but not so sharp and keen as that of most red men. His eyes had a calm, gentle expression, like one much given to contemplation. His head was bare, his hair worn in a knot in which was stuck an eagle's feather, the badge of chieftainship. His dress consisted of moccasins, leather leggings, and hunting-jacket, very simple and unadorned. From his belt, in which a knife was thrust, hung all the appointments necessary to a dweller on the plains. A medicine-charm with sacred inscriptions cut around its face hung from his neck, and in his hand he carried a double-barrelled gun, the handle adorned with silver nails.

The younger man was clad like his father, except that his garments were showier; his leggings were beautifully fringed, and his hunting-shirt was embellished with scarlet needlework. He also wore a medicine-charm around his neck, and a calumet; like his father he was armed with a knife and a double-barrelled gun. He, too, was bareheaded, his hair bound in a knot, but without the feather; it was so long that the end below the knot fell thick and heavy on his shoulders, and many a fine lady might have coveted it. His face was even nobler than his father's, its color a light brown with a touch of bronze. He seemed to be, as I afterwards learned he was, of the same age as myself, and his appearance made as profound an impression on me then, when I saw him first, as his character has left upon me to-day, after our long friendship.

We looked at one another long and searchingly, and I thought I saw for a moment in his earnest, dark eyes a friendly light gleam upon me.

"These are my friends and companions," said Kleki-Petrah, introducing first the father, then the son. "This is Intschu-Tschuna Good Sun, the chief of the Mascaleros, whom all Apaches acknowledge as their head. And here stands his son Winnetou, who already in his youth has accomplished more deeds of renown than any ten old warriors have in all their lives. His name will be known and honored as far as the prairies and Rockies extend."

This sounded like exaggeration, but later I found that he had spoken only the truth.

Rattler laughed insultingly, and said: "So young a fellow, and committed such deeds? I say committed purposely, for every one knows they are only deeds of robbery and cruelty. The red men steal from every one."

This was an outrageous insult, but the Indians acted as though they had not heard it. Stooping down over the bear, Kleki-Petrah admired it, calling Winnetou's attention to its size and strength. "It was killed by a knife and not a bullet," he said as he rose.

Evidently, I thought, he had heard the dispute and wished me to have justice.

"What does a school-master know of bear-hunting?" said Rattler. "When we take the skin off we can see what killed him. I won't be robbed of my rights by a greenhorn."

Then Winnetou bent down, touched the bloody wound, and asked me in good English: "Who stabbed the beast?"

"I did," I replied.

"Why did not my young white brother shoot him?"

"Because I had no gun with me."

"Yet here are guns."

"They are not mine; they were thrown away by these men when they climbed the trees shrieking with terror."

"Ugh! the low cowards and dogs, to fly like tissuepaper! A man should make resistance, for if he has courage he may conquer the strongest brute. My young white brother has such courage."

"My son speaks truly," added the father in as perfect English. "This brave young pale-face is no longer a greenhorn. He who kills a grizzly in this manner is a hero; and he who does it to save those who climb trees deserves thanks, not insults. Let us go to visit the pale-faces that have come into our dominion."

They were but three, and did not know how many we numbered, but that never occurred to them. With slow and dignified strides they went out of the thicket, we following.

Then for the first time Intschu-Tschuna saw the surveying instruments standing as we had left them, and, stopping suddenly, he turned to me, demanding: "What is this? Are the pale-faces measuring the land?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Why?"

"For a railroad."

His eyes lost their calmness, and he asked sternly: "Do you obey these people, and measure with them?"

"Yes."

"And are paid for it?"

"Yes."

He threw a scornful glance upon me, and in a contemptuous tone he said to Kleki-Petrah: "Your teachings sound well, but they do not often agree with what I see. Christians deceive and rob the Indians. Here is a young pale-face with a brave heart, open face, honorable eyes, and when I ask what he does here he tells me he has come to steal our land. The faces of the white men are good and bad, but inside they are all alike."

To be honest, his words filled me with shame. Could I well be proud of my share in this matter--I, a Catholic, who had been taught so early: "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods "? I blushed for my race and for myself before this fine savage; and before I could rally enough even to try to reply, the head engineer, who had been watching us through a hole in the tent, came forth to meet us, and my thoughts were diverted by what then took place.

THE first question the head engineer asked as we came up, although he was surprised to see the Indians with us, was what had become of the bear.

Rattler instantly replied: "We've shot him, and we'll have bear-paws for dinner, and bear-steak to-night for supper."

Our three guests looked at me as if to see whether I would let this pass, and I said: "I claim to have stabbed the bear. Here are three witnesses who have corroborated my statement; but we'll wait till Hawkins, Stone, and Parker come, and they will give their opinion, by which we will be guided. Till then the bear must lie untouched."

"Not much will I leave it to the scouts," growled Rattler. "I'll go with my men and cut up the bear, and whoever tries to hinder us will be driven off with a dozen shots in his body."

"Hold on, Mr. Rattler," said I. "I'm not as much afraid of your shots as you were of the bear. You won't drive me up a tree with your threats. I recommend you to bury your dead comrade; I would not leave him lying thus."

"Is some one dead?" asked Bancroft, startled.

"Yes, Rollins," Rattler replied. "The poor fellow had jumped for a tree, like the rest of us, and would have been all right, but this greenhorn came up, excited the bear, and it tore Rollins horribly."

I stood speechless with amazement that he should dare go so far. It was impossible to endure such lying, and in my very presence. I turned on Rattler and demanded: "Do you mean to say Rollins was escaping, and I prevented it?"

"Yes," he nodded, drawing his revolver.

"And I say the bear had seized him before I came."

"That's a lie," said Rattler.

"Very well; here's a truth for you," and with these words I knocked his revolver from his hand with my left, and with the right gave him such a blow on the ear that he staggered six or eight feet away, and fell flat on the ground.

He sprang up, drew his knife, and came at me raging like a wild beast. I parried the knife-thrust with my left hand, and with my right laid him senseless at my feet.

"Ugh! ugh!" grunted Intschu-Tschuna, surprised into admiration, which his race rarely betray.

"That was Shatterhand again," said Wheeler, the surveyor.

I kept my eye on Rattler's comrades; they were angry, but no one dared attack me, and though they muttered among themselves they did no more.

"You must send Rattler away, Mr. Bancroft," I said. "I have done nothing to him, yet he constantly seeks a quarrel with me. I am afraid he'll make serious trouble in the camp. Send him away, or, if you prefer, I'll go myself."

"Oh, things aren't as bad as that," said Bancroft easily.

"Yes, they are, just as bad as that. Here are his knife and revolver; don't let him have them, for I warn you they'd not be in good hands."

Just as I spoke these words our three scouts joined us, and having heard the story of Rattler's lying claim, and my counter-statement, they set off at once to examine the bear's carcass to settle the dispute. They returned in a short time, and as soon as he was within hailing distance Sam called out: "What idiocy it was to shoot a grizzly and then run! If a man doesn't intend making a fight, then what on earth does he shoot for? Why doesn't he leave the bear in peace? You can't treat grizzlies like poodle-dogs. Poor Rollins paid dear for it, though. Now, who killed that bear, did you say?"

"I did," cried Rattler, who had come to. "I killed him with my gun."

"Well, that agrees; that's all right. The bear was shot."

"Do you hear that, men? Sam Hawkins has decided for me," cried Rattler triumphantly.

"Yes, for you," said Sam. "You shot him, and took off the tip of his ear, and such a loss naturally ended the grizzly, ha! ha! ha! If you shot again it went wide of the mark, for there's no other gun-shot on him. But there are four true knife-thrusts, two above the heart and two in it; who gave him those?"

"I did," I said.

"You alone?"

"No one else."

"Then the bear belongs to you. That is, the pelt is yours; the flesh belongs to all, but you have the right to divide it. This is the custom of the West. Have you anything to say, Mr. Rattler?"

Rattler growled something that condemned us to a much warmer climate, and turned sullenly to the wagon where the liquor was stored. I saw him pour down glass after glass, and knew he would drink till he could drink no more.

The Indians had listened to our discussion, and watched us in silent interest; but now, our affairs being settled, the chief, Intschu-Tschuna, turned to the head engineer, saying: "My ear has told me that among these pale-faces you are chief; is this so?"

"Yes," Bancroft replied.

"Then I have something to say to you."

"What is it?"

"You shall hear. But you are standing, and men should sit in conference."

"Will you be our guest?" asked Bancroft.

"No, for it is impossible. How can I be your guest when you are on my lands, in my forests, my valleys, my prairies? Let the white men be seated."

"Tell me what you wish of me," said Bancroft.

"It is not a wish, but a command," answered Intschu-Tschuna proudly.

"We will take no command," responded the head engineer with equal pride.

A look of anger passed over the chief's face, but he controlled himself, and said mildly: "My white brother will answer me one question truthfully. Have you a house?"

"Yes."

"With a garden?"

"Yes."

"If a neighbor would cut a path through that garden would my brother submit to it?"

"No."

"The lands beyond the Rocky Mountains and east of the Mississippi belong to the pale-faces. What would they say if the Indians came to build a railroad there?"

"They would drive them away."

"My white brother has answered truly. But the palefaces come.here on these lands of ours, and drive away our mustangs and kill our buffaloes; they seek among us for gold and precious stones, and now they will build a long, long road on which their fire-horses can run. Then more pale-faces will follow this road, and settle among us, and take the little we have left us. What are we to say to this?"

Bancroft was silent.

"Have we fewer rights than they? You call yourselves Christians, and speak of love, yet you say: We can rob and cheat you, but you must be honest with us. Is that love? You say your God is the Good Father of all men, red and white. Is He only our stepfather, and are you His own sons? Did not all the land belong to the red man? It has been taken from us, and what have we instead? Misery, misery, misery. You drive us ever farther and farther back, and press us closer and closer together, and in a little time we shall be suffocated. Why do you do this? Is it because you have not room enough? No, for there is room in your lands still for many, many millions. Each of your tribes can have a whole State, but the red man, the true owner, may not have a place to lay his head. Kleki-Petrah, who sits here before me, has taught me your Holy Book. There it says that the first man had two sons, and one killed the other, and his blood cried to Heaven. How is it with the two brothers, the red and the white? Are you not Cain, and are we not Abel, whose blood cries to Heaven? And when you try to destroy us you vanish us to make no defence. But we will defend ourselves, we will defend ourselves. We have been driven from place to place, ever farther away; now we collide here, where we believed ourselves at rest, but you come to build your railroad. Have we not the same rights you have over your house and garden? If we followed our own laws we should kill you; but we only wish your laws to be fulfilled towards us: are they? No! Your laws have two faces, and you turn them to us as it suits your advantage. Have you asked our permission to build this road?"

"No," said Bancroft. "It was not necessary."

"Have you bought the land, or have we sold it?"

"Not to me."

"Nor to any other. Were you an honest man sent here to build a way for the fire-horse, you would first have asked the man who sent you whether he had a right to do this thing, and made him prove it. But this you have not done. I forbid you to measure further."

These last words were spoken in a tone of most bitter earnest.

I had read much of the red man, but never had found in any book such a speech from an Indian, and I wondered if he owed his fluent English and forcible logic to Kleki-Petrah.

The head engineer found himself in an awkward predicament. If he was honest and sincere he could not gainsay what Intschu-Tschuna had spoken; but there were considerations more weighty with Bancroft than honesty, so the chief had to wait his answer, looking him straight in the eyes.

Seeing that Bancroft was shifting about in his mind for a way out of his difficulty, Intschu-Tschuna rose, saying decidedly: "There is no need of further speech. I have spoken. My will is that you leave here to-day, and go back whence you came. Decide whether you will obey or not. I will now depart with my son Winnetou, and will return at the end of that time which the pale-faces call an hour, when you will give me your answer. If you go, we are brothers; if you stay, it shall be deadly enmity between you and me. I am Intschu-Tschuna, the chief of all the Apaches. I have spoken."

Winnetou followed him as he went out from among us, and they were soon lost to sight down the valley.

Kleki-Petrah remained seated, and Flancroft turned to him and asked his advice. He replied: "Do as you will, sir. I am of the chief's opinion. The red race has been cruelly outraged and robbed. But as a white man I know that the Indian must disappear. If you are an honest man and go to-day, to-morrow another will come to carry on your work. I warn you, however, that the chief is in earnest."

He, too, rose, as if to put an end to further questioning. I went up to him and said: "Sir, will you let me go with you? I promise to do or say nothing that will annoy you. It is only because I feel extraordinary interest in Intschu-Tschuna, and even more in Winnetou."

That he himself was included in this interest I dared not say.

"Yes, come with me a little way," he replied. "I have withdrawn from my race, and must know them no more; but since you have crossed my path, there can be no harm in our meeting, and some good may result from it. We will walk a little together. You seem to me the most intelligent of these men; am I right?"

"I am the youngest, and not clever, and I should be honored if you allowed me to go with you," I answered respectfully.

"Come, then," said Kleki-Petrah kindly, and we walked slowly away from the camp.

"YOU do not speak like a Westerner," said Kleki-Petrah as we started.

"No, I am from the East," I replied "I came here to see the world."

"A bad thing to see sometimes. I am a German. It must seem strange to you to find a German become a full-fledged Apache."

"God's ways seem marvellous, but they are natural after all."

"God's ways! Why do you say God, instead of destiny, fate, or fortune?"

"Because I am a Catholic, and recognize that the hand of God is in the affairs of men."

"You are right, and are happier than you know; never lose that conviction. Yes, it is true that God's ways often seem marvellous, but are perfectly natural. The greatest marvels are the fulfilment of His laws, and the daily actions of nature are the greatest marvels. A German, a student, a teacher of some renown, and now an Apache--these seem wonderful changes, but they came about naturally."

Though he had taken me with him half unwillingly, he seemed glad to spew of himself. We had not gone far from camp, and had lain down under a tree, where I could study his face and expression at leisure. The vicissitudes of life had engraved deep lines upon his brow; long furrows of sorrow, the marks of doubt and thought, the many seams of care and privation. Though his eyes might once have been piercing, angry, threatening, now they were as calm and clear as a forest lake.

I should not have dared to question him as to his evidently strange history, though I longed to know it, but he asked me all about myself, and my answers were so full and frank that they gave him evident pleasure.

When he had heard all there was to learn of me he bowed his head, saying: "You are at the beginning of the conflict which I am ending, but you need not fear. You have the good God with you who will never forsake you. It was otherwise with me. I had lost my God when I left home, or rather was driven from it, and instead of the staff of strong faith I took with me the worst companion a man can have--a bad conscience."

He looked at me as he said these words, and, seeing my face unchanged, asked: "Are you not shocked?"

"Nonsense! Wwo could suspect you of a great crime? I doubt your being a thief or a murderer."

I laughed as I spoke, but he said gravely: "Thank you, but you are mistaken. I was a thief, for I stole much that was priceless. And I was a murderer, the worst of murderers, for I slew souls. I was a teacher in an advanced school, it does not matter where. I was born a Catholic, but lost any faith, and my greatest pride lay in being free and having dethroned God, and all my influence and skill went to robbing others of their faith. I had great power over men, and numberless were the hearers whom my lectures led into infidelity. Then came the revolution. He who acknowledges no God recognises no king or authority as sacred. I placed myself at the head of a lawless band of malcontents, who acclaimed me as their leader, and we rose in mad rebellion against constituted authority. How many fell in that struggle! I was a murderer, and the murderer not only of these, but of others that perished later behind prison walls. I fled from my fatherland to escape a like fate. I had no father or mother, no brother or sister; not a soul wept for me, but many cursed me as the cause of their sorrow. In fleeing from the police I ran one day through a little garden and entered a dilapidated house, where I found an old mother and her daughter in direst need. They told me their pitiful story with bitter tears. They had been comfortable, the daughter married but a year to an honest man who earned enough for a decent livelihood. He had heard my lectures, and been led away by them. He persuaded his father-in-law to join him and take part in the rebellion under my leadership. The young man fell on what he thought a field of honor, but the old father was imprisoned. The women told me this not knowing it was their listener who was responsible for their wretchedness. God's mills began to grind. Freedom was mine still, but peace was gone. I wandered everywhere, but found no rest. I was often on the verge of suicide, but a hand held me back--God's hand. At last I reached the United States, and came to the West. In Kansas I met a priest, one of my own countrymen, and he saved me. He dispelled my doubts, and gave me back faith and contentment. Dear Lord, I thank Thee for it."

He was silent awhile, with hands folded and gaze directed heavenward. Then he resumed: "I fled from the world and men to do penance, and turned towards the wilderness. I saw the red man's wrongs, and my heart overflowed with wrath and compassion. I resolved to atone as far as might be for my wrong to the white man by devotion to the red. I went among the Apaches, learned their tongue, and became their teacher. Winnetou is my especial charge; were he the son of a European lord he would be a renowned prince, for he is richly endowed by nature. Would that I might see him a Christian! But though I have taught him all I could of Catholic truth, it may never be, for he shrinks from deserting the religion of his ancestors. However it may end I will remain with him to the day of my death. He is my spiritual son; I love him more than myself, and it would be joy to me to receive in my own heart a shot intended for his, for I would gladly die for him, feeling that perhaps such a death might wash away the last stain of my sins."

His head sank on his breast, and I remained silent, feeling that anything I could say would be trivial after such a confession, but I took his hand and pressed it heartily. He understood, and returned the pressure.

After a time he spoke again. "Why have I told you this? I have seen you to-day for the first time, and probably we shall never meet again. Has it beenn by the inspiration of God? For I, the former blasphemer, now seek to find His will in all things. There is an indefinable feeling of melancholy in my heart, which is not exactly sorrow. It is like the feeling that comes to one when the autumn leaves are falling. How shall my tree of life shed its leaves? Gently and after they are sere, or shall it be cut down before its natural time has come?" He gazed in silence down the valley, where I saw Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou returning. They were mounted now, and leading Kleki-Petrah's horse.

We rose to go to the camp, which we reached as the Indians came up. Rattler leaned against the wagon, his face on fire, for in the short time that had passed he had drunk as much as he possibly could, and was a horrible sight. His eyes were like a wild beast's, and I made up my mind to watch him, for he was dangerous.

The chief and Winnetou dismounted and came towards us. "Have my white brothers decided to go or stay?" asked Intschu-Tschuna.

The head engineer had thought of a compromise, and said: "We must stay here whether we would or not, and obey the command laid upon us. But we will send to Santa Fé and ask for instructions from those that sent us, and then we will answer."

This was a cunning thought, for by that time our work would be done. But the chief said decidedly: "I will not wait. My white brother must say at once what he will do."

Rattler had filled a glass with whisky, and came towards the two Indians, saying incoherently: "If the Indians will drink with me we will go, if not we won't.

Let the young one drink first. Here's fire-water, Winnetou."

He held out the glass. Winnetou stepped back in disgust.

"What! You won't drink with me? That's an insult. Here, take the whisky, you red dog; lick it up, if you won't drink it." Before any one could stop him, he had thrown the contents of the glass in the young Apache's face. According to Indian custom such an insult was to be avenged by death, but Winnetou merely struck him to the earth, while, like his father's, his face betrayed no sign of what he felt, and the drunkard picked himself up and staggered back to the wagon.

"Once more," said Intschu-Tschuna, "and this is the last time, I ask: Will the pale-faces leave our valley today?"

"We cannot," was the reply.

"Then remember there is strife between us."

I started towards them, but the three strangers turned back to their horses without noticing me.

From the wagon came Rattler's voice crying: "Get out, you red coyotes! but the young one shall pay for knocking me down." Quicker than it can be told he had snatched a gun from the wagon and aimed it at Winnetou, who was standing alone, without protection, where the bullet must have found him; nor was there time to warn him.

Kleki-Petrah cried in anguish: "Down, Winnetou, down," at the same time springing before the young Apache. The shot whistled through the air. Kleki-Petrah fell to the ground with one hand at his breast, while at the same moment Rattler fell, struck by my hand. I had sprung at him as soon as I saw his intention, but too late.

A cry of horror arose from all sides; only the two Apaches were silent. They knelt by the friend who had given his life for them, and examined his wound. It was close to the heart, and the blood flowed from it in torrents. I, too, knelt by Kleki-Petrah, whose eyes were closed and whose face was fast growing white and drawn.

"Lay his head on your breast," I said to Winnetou. "If he sees you when he opens his eyes, his death will be happier."

Without a word Winnetou followed my suggestion, and his eyes never wandered from the dying man.

At last he opened his eyes, and seeing Winnetou bending over him a peaceful smile came over his suffering face, and he whispered: "Winnetou, O my son, Winnetou!" Then his failing eyes seemed to seek something, till he saw me, and he said to me in German: "Stay with him; be true to him; carry on my work."

He raised his hand imploringly; I took it, and replied: "I will, I promise you I will."

An ineffable expression came upon his face, and he murmured in a faint voice: "My leaves are cut off, not fading; it is--wiped out. I die--as--I--wished. God, forgive--forgive. Jesus, mercy--mercy-- Mary, pray--mercy -" He folded his hands, a flood of blood burst from his wound, his head fell back: he was dead.

Now I knew what had led him to unburden his heart to me--the inspiration of God, as he had said. He had wished to die for Winnetou; how quickly had his wish been fulfilled! The last trace of his sin had been washed away. God is love and infinite compassion; the contrite He will in no wise cast out.

Winnetou laid the dead man's head in the grass, slowly rose, and looked interrogatively at his father.

"There lies the murderer where I have struck him down; he is yours," I said.

"Fire-water!" Only this brief reply came from the chief's lips in contemptuous tones.

"I will be your friend, your brother; I will go with you." The words burst from me involuntarily.

Intschu-Tschuna spat in my face. "Miserable cur!" he said, "thief of our land, dare to follow us, and I will crush you!"

I let the insult pass, awed by the presence of the dead and my promise to him.

The white men stood dumbly waiting to see what the Apaches would do. They never glanced at us again. Placing the corpse on the horse which Kleki-Petrah had ridden, they bound it fast, took the bridle, and, mounting themselves, rode away.

They spoke no word, and as Sam Hawkins watched them disappear he said: "That is more dangerous than the most dreadful threats. We shall see trouble, and there lies the cause, with no mind or soul; what shall we do with him?"

I did not wait to hear the answer; I saddled my horse and rode away. I wished to be alone to escape hearing this last awful half-hour discussed. It was late in the evening when, weary and exhausted in body and soul, I returned to the camp.

IT was decided by our party that we were not able, under the circumstances, to punish Rattler for his crime, which was most unsatisfactory to my youthful sense of justice. Sam pointed out, however, that his punishment was swift and certain at the hands of the Apaches; but the drawback to this consolation was that we who were innocent were likely to suffer with the guilty. We knew that the Indians would return to avenge Kleki-Petrah's murder as soon as they could summon their warriors, and the most important thing for us was to discover where the main body of the braves were, how far the chief and his son must ride to come up with them, and consequently when we could expect their return. Bancroft was most anxious to finish our work before we left, provided there was time before the anticipated attack, and calculated that it would require five days to complete our task. So Sam Hawkins volunteered to ride on the trail of the chiefs who had visited us, to discover, if possible, all that we needed to know, and took me with him, partly for protection, because I had earned such a reputation for being able to strike a hard blow with what Sam called my "lily lady-fingers," partly that I might have experience in the art of following a trail, and partly, I hope, because he liked to have me with him.

I had not been able to eat or sleep the night after the murder, for I could not cease going over the dreadful scene. I saw myself seated by Kleki-Petrah, heard his story, which had become to me a dying confession, and thought again and again of his last words, expressing a presentiment of his coming death. Yes, the tree of his life had not fallen naturally, but had been violently cut down, and by what an assassin, for what a reason, and in what a manner! If there was any consolation to be found in the bloody work of that day, it was that Kleki-Petrah had died on Winnetou's heart, and he had received the shot intended for his beloved pupil.

But what of his request that I should cling to Winnetou and fulfil the work that he had begun? Only a few moments before he had said that we should probably never meet again, and indeed my path in life lay far enough from the Apaches, and yet he had left me a problem the solution of which would bring me into the most intimate relations with that tribe. Was this request but chance words? Or was the dying man in the last moment of his life, as his soul fluttered on the border of the next world, given a glimpse of the future? It seems so, for events enabled me to fulfil his wish, though then it appeared extremely unlikely that I should ever be brought into friendly contact with Winnetou.

But why above all had I so quickly given my pledge to the dying man? Through pity? Yes, undoubtedly; but there was another reason. Winnetou had made an impression upon me such as I had never received from any other man. He was exactly my age, yet of greater parts, and this I felt from the first glance at him. The proud earnestness of his clear, velvety eyes, the quiet certainty of his bearing, and the profound sorrow on his fine young face had revealed it to me. How admirable had been his conduct and that of his father! And what a lesson for many a white man lay in Intschu-Tschuna's one word of explanation of Rattler's crime: "Fire-water!" These thoughts, and the dread of meeting as enemies, returned to slay me and my comrades, these two whom I not only liked, but whom I had promised to befriend, kept all sleep from my eyelids, and it was with a heavy heart that I set out with Sam on the following morning to ride on their trail.

We started early, before the sun had risen. It was my very first scouting expedition, and, though I have since taken many such rides, I can never forget this first one. The trail was easily followed, a fact which made Sam doubt its being trustworthy; for he said that when an Indian left his course so easily traced by an enemy the chance was it was done only to lead that enemy info a trap. But I felt sure that in this case it was only because the chief and Winnetou were too heavily encumbered by the corpse of Kleki-Petrah, and in too great haste to avenge his murder, to obliterate the trace of their course, and rode on with no fear of an ambush.

It was an hour before mid-day when we came to a thicket of young oaks where the Indians had evidently halted to cut saplings for a litter or drag for the body of Kleki-Petrah, for we saw the leaves and twigs which they had stripped from the young trees in its construction lying on the ground. Here Sam reined up, saying: "Now we've gone far enough; we'll rest awhile. Winnetou rode all night to this point; do you see that the trail goes on from here in single file? That means that they rode this way to cover the fact that one has gone on alone, for greater speed, leaving the other to follow with the body. The one in advance is probably the chief, and Winnetou has taken charge of his murdered teacher. This will enable Intschu-Tschuna to summon his braves quickly, and we may expect their return very soon, perhaps before the five days are up which you need for your work."

We let our horses, or rather my horse and Nancy, drink at a stream which flowed between the saplings, and we lay down to rest for half an hour before we turned to go back. We lay silent, I thinking of the approaching struggle with the Apaches, while I saw by the regular heaving of his breast that Sam slept. If I needed a proof of the intelligence of animals, and the keenness attained by the senses of both man and beast in a life in the wilds, I was to receive it now. The mule was tethered in the bushes, where she could see nothing, nibbling the leaves and grass; she was not a sociable beast and preferred to be alone, while my horse grazed close to my elbow. Suddenly Nancy uttered a short, sharp, I might almost say warning, note, and in an instant Sam was awake and on his feet.

"I was asleep, but Nancy woke me. Some man or beast is coming. Where is my mule?" he cried.

"Here in the bushes; this way."

We crawled through the undergrowth, and saw only Nancy looking out through the branches. Her long ears waved excitedly, and her tail swung from side to side; but when she saw us coming she quieted down; ears and tail were still.

We peered out, and saw six Indians coming on the trail single file. The first one, a short but muscular man, kept his head down, apparently never raising his eyes from the trail. They all wore leather leggings and dark woollen shirts, and were armed with muskets, knives, and tomahawks. Their faces shone with grease, and across each one ran a red and a blue stripe.

"What a lucky meeting! They are Kiowas, and they'll save us," said Sam. "The one ahead is Bao, which means Fox, a daring and crafty warrior, as his name indicates. The chief of the band is called Tangua, a bold Indian, and a good friend of mine. They have their war-paint on, and apparently they also are reconnoitring."

The six warriors drew near while I was wondering how they could save us. Six Indians would not be much help, but it was a comfort to find that Sam knew them, and that at least we had nothing to fear from them. Sam stopped forth from the bushes, put his hands to his mouth, and uttered a peculiar sharp cry which they seemed to recognise, for they reined in their horses and shouted back. Again Sam called to them and signalled, and they understood both cry and signal, for, returning them, they galloped toward us.

"Is our white brother Sam here?" asked the leader as he came up. "How comes he in the path of his red friend and brother?"

"Bao, the crafty fox, has met me because he came upon my tracks," answered Sam.

"We thought they were the tracks of the red dogs we seek," said the For in broken but perfectly comprehensible English.

"What does my brother mean?"

"The Apaches of the tribe of Mascaleros."

"Why do you call them dogs? is there enmity between them and the brave Kiowas?"

"There is war between us and these scurvy coyotes."

"I am glad to hear it. My brothers may sit down with us, for I have something important to tell them."

The Fox looked at me searchingly, and said "I have never seen this young pale-face; is he one of the warriors of the white men? Has he won a name?"

If Sam had told him my own name it would have made no impression, so he fell back on the name Wheeler had given me. "This is my dearest friend and brother, and though he is young he is a great warrior among his own people in the rising sun. Never in his life had he seen a buffalo, yet two days ago he fought with two bulls to save my life, and killed them, and yesterday he stabbed a grizzly bear of the Rockies with his knife, and received no scratch himself."

"Ugh! ugh!" grunted the Indians, regarding me approvingly.

"His bullet never misses its mark, and in his hand dwells such strength that at a blow from him his enemy falls to the ground. Therefore the white men of the West call him Old Shatterhand."

Thus without any choice of mine I was given the name which has ever since clung to me.

The Fox offered me his hand, and said in friendly tones: "If Old Shatterhand will, we will be friends and brothers. We love men who can knock down an enemy with a blow, and he shall be welcome among us."

Which really meant: "We need allies with such strength, so come to us."

However, I replied: "I love the red men, for they are the sons of the Great Spirit, whose children we also are. We are brothers, and will unite against all enemies who do not respect us."

A smirk of satisfaction passed over his greased and painted face as he replied: "Old Shatterhand has spoken well; we will smoke the pipe of peace with him." So saying he seated himself, and brought out a pipe which he filled with a mixture apparently of red turnip, hemp, chopped acorns, and sour sorrel, lighted it, rose, took a whiff, puffed it towards heaven and earth, and said: "Above dwells the Great Spirit, and here on earth exist the plants and beasts which he made for the Kiowa warriors." Then he took another whiff, and blew it towards the north, east, south, and west, saying: "In all directions dwell the red and white men who wrongfully take these beasts and plants for themselves; but we shall find them, and take what is ours. I have spoken. How!"

What a speech! This Kiowa openly declared his tribe the owner of everything, and hence robbery was not only his right but his duty. And I must treat this sort of people as friends!

The Fox handed the pipe to Sam, who took half a dozen puffs and said: "The Great Spirit judges not the appearance of men, nor can they deceive Him by painting their faces, for He sees the heart. The hearts of the warriors of the glorious tribe of the Kiowas are brave and wise. Mine is bound to them as my mule is tied to the tree, and will be so forever. I have spoken. How!"

That was just like Sam, the artful, jolly little man, who always knew how to win his hearers, and yet have his joke.

And now it was my turn to take the foul pipe and become eloquent. I also rose, took a whiff, and--yes, the turnip, hemp, acorns, sour sorrel were all there in the pipe-bowl, but there seemed to be a fifth ingredient in the mixture, for it tasted as if it had bits of felt shoes in it. I puffed the smoke towards the earth and blue sky and said: "The sunshine and air come from Heaven, whence come all good gifts. The earth receives the warmth and moisture, and gives them to the buffalo and mustang and bear and deer, to the pumpkin and corn and all good plants from which the red man makes his kinnikinnic,that in the pipe of peace breathes brotherly love."

I had read that Indians call their tobacco "kinnikinnic," and the knowledge opportunely came back to me now. A second time I filled my mouth with smoke and blew it toward heaven, and continued: "In the west rise the Rocky Mountains, and to the east stretch the plains; on the north roll the seas, and the south is washed by the waters of the great ocean. Were all the land between these points mine I would share it with the warriors of the Kiowas, for they are my brothers. This year may they kill ten times as many buffaloes and fifty times as many grizzly bears as they number. May their corn grow as large as pumpkins, and their pumpkins so great that twenty could be made from one. I have spoken. How!"

These wishes were not very practical, but they seemed to please the Indians as much as if they were already fulfilled. The Fox seized my hand, assured me of his friendship for all time, then took the pipe between his teeth, and smoked in supreme content.

Having brought the Indians into a state of high good humor, Sam said: "My brothers say that the war hatchet has been dug up between them and the Apaches of the Mascaleros. How long has this been so? and what has ended the peace between them?"

"Since the time two weeks ago, when the Apache dogs killed four of our warriors."

"Where?"

"At Rio Pecos."

"That is not your camp, but that of the Mascaleros; what were your warriors doing there?"

The Kiowa did not hesitate to reply candidly: "A band of our braves went at night to capture some of the Apaches' horses. The vile dogs watch well; they killed our brave men. Therefore we have taken up the war-hatchet."

So the Kiowas had intended to steal, yet would make the Apaches atone for their defence of their own property. I would have expressed my mind on this conduct, but Sam signalled to me so energetically to be quiet that I obeyed him, and he said: "My brother the Fox is out to spy; when will his braves follow?"

"They are one day behind us."

"Who leads them?"

"Tangua, the chief himself, at the head of two hundred braves."

"And you expect to overcome the Apaches?"

"We will come upon them as the eagle swoops on the heron that has not seen him."

"My brother is mistaken. The Apaches know that they are to be attacked by the Kiowas."

The Fox shook his head incredulously, and replied: "How could they know it? Do their ears reach to the tent of the Kiowas?"

"Yes."

"I do not understand my brother Sam; he must tell me what he means."

"The Apaches have ears which can walk and ride; yesterday we saw two such ears that had been listening at the camp of the Kiowas."

"Uff! Two ears. Two scouts?"

"Yes. My brothers have not considered everything. Intschu-Tschuna, the chief of the Apaches, is a very wise warrior. When he saw that his people had killed four Kiowas he said to himself that the Kiowas would be avenged, and set out to spy upon you."

"Uff! uff! He himself?"

"Yes, and his son Winnetou."

"Uff! He too? Had we known that, we would have captured the two dogs. I must hasten back to tell this to the chief, that he may call out more braves. We are enough for a surprise, but not if we are expected. Will Sam and Old Shatterhand ride with me?"

"Yes; not to Tangua, the chief of the Kiowas, but to our camp."

"That I cannot do."

"Hear what I say. Would you take Intschu-Tschuna, the chief of the Apaches, a prisoner alive?"

"Uff!" cried the Kiowa as if electrified, and his voice was ear-splitting. Then he said: "If my brother has a jest on his tongue I will not bear it."

"Nonsense! I am in earnest. In five or six days at most, and I can't tell how much sooner, you can capture the chief and his son Winnetou alive."

"Where?"

"In our camp; and you'll see how if you listen to what I tell yom."

Sam then told the Indian of our road, to which they had no objection, and of our meeting with the Apaches. As he ended he said: "I wondered to see the two chiefs alone, and decided they were buffalo-hunting and had parted from their followers for a little time, but now I see it all. They were out reconnoitring, and the fact that the two heads of the tribe made this ride themselves shows they considered it an important matter. Now they will thirst for a double vengeance: on you, and on us for Kleki-Petrah's murder. They will send a smaller band against us than against you, and the chief and his son will be with the former. After we have shown you our camp, that you may find it again, you will go back to your chief, tell him all I have said, and he will come with his two hundred braves to wait for Intschu-Tschuna with his little band. We are twenty strong, and of course will help you, and it will be child's plan to capture the Apaches. It is like having the whole tribe to have the chiefs, for you can demand of them what you will. Does my brother see it all?"

"Yes; my white brother's plan is very good, and we will start at once to reach his camp before dark."

We mounted and galloped towards the camp, cutting across by a shorter route, since it was no longer necessary to follow the trail. I was shocked at Sam Hawkins and very angry with him. Winnetou, the noble Winnetou, and his father were to be betrayed into a trap, which if successful would destroy them! How could Hawkins have formed such a scheme? I tried in vain to get him apart from the Kiowas to ask an explanation; but he seemed to suspect my intention, and stuck close to the Fox, which made me angrier than ever.

When we got into camp I sprang from my horse, and lay down on the grass in no very happy frame of mind. Disregarding all my signals to him, Sam had taken the Indians to our men, who were in a high state of delight when they learned they had come in friendship and there was no longer any reason for our fearing the Apaches.

After the Kiowas had been hospitably received and entertained, Sam came to me for the first time. "You have a long face to-night," he said. "Is it real indigestion or mental colic? I suspect it's the latter; open your heart to me and I'll cure you."

"I'd be glad if you could, Sam, but I doubt it."

"Yes, I can; only try me."

"Tell me, then, how Winnetou struck you?"

"As a fine fellow, just as he did you."

"Yet you will betray him to his death; how does that hang together?"

"To his death! I? That's impossible for my father's son."

"But you'll make him a prisoner of these villains, and that means death."

"Don't believe that fairy tale. On the contrary, I'd do a good deal to save Winnetou if he were in danger."

"Then why do you set this trap? And listen, Sam. If he is captured, I'll free him; and if a weapon is turned on him, I'll stand by his side and fight for him. I warn you of this frankly. I promised a dying man to be his friend, and that is as binding to me as an oath."

"I like that, I like that," Sam announced. "We agree there."

"Oh, yes," I exclaimed impatiently, "you say so, but how do your good words agree with your actions?"

"So that is what you want to know, hey? Old Sam Hawkins suspected you wanted to speak to him, but he dared not let you. He's a different fellow than he seems, only he's not going to show his cards to any one but you and Dick Stone and Will Parker, who are to help in his plot. We were lucky to have met the Kiowas and learned all we know now, and I really don't see any other way of saving ourselves from the Apaches. However much you may admire Winnetou, you'd have to love him in eternity, for, being ignorant of your devotion to him, he'd send you there in short order. Now the Kiowas will come here with their two hundred braves -"

"I'll warn Winnetou," I interrupted.

"Heaven forbid!" cried Sam. "That would only ruin us, for the Apaches would put an end to us and the Kiowas together. No, they must actually be face to face with death; and if then we secretly free them, as we will, they'll be grateful, and forego all revenge on us. At most they'll only demand Rattler of us, and I would not object to that. What do you say now, my angry gentleman?"

I gave him my hand, and replied: "I am perfectly satisfied, my dear Sam; you've thought it all out well."

"Haven't I? Hawkins has his good side, after all. Are we friends again?"

" Yes, old Sam, and I'm sorry I was so suspicious."

"Then put your head down and sleep, for to-morrow there's a good deal to do. I'll go now and look up Stone and Parker, to let them know where we stand. Good night, and trust me better next time."

Wasn't he a kind, trusty fellow, this queer old Sam Hawkins?

WHEN Sam left me I tried to sleep, but it was long before I succeeded. The camp was noisy over the coming of the Kiowas and our rescue thereby, and besides my own thoughts were not soothing. Hawkins had spoken of his plans confidently, as though they could not miscarry; but after I was left alone I was not so sure of them. We were to free Winnetou and his father, but nothing had been said of the other Apaches. Would they remain in the hands of the Kiowas when their chiefs were rescued? We four men could scarcely liberate all the Apaches, especially as it was to be done so secretly that no suspicion could fall on us. And how were the Apaches to come into the hands of the Kiowas? Hardly without a struggle, and it was easy to foresee that these very two whom we wished to deliver would defend themselves most bravely, and hence be in the greatest danger of death. How could we prevent this? I thought long over these problems, twisting myself into every imaginable position, but could find no way out of the difficulty. The only thought which comforted me in a measure was that clever, trusty little Sam would find a way out; and as to myself, I determined to stand by the chiefs, and if necessary defend them with my life. So at last I went to sleep.

The next morning I went at my work with redoubled energy to make up for the previous day's absence. Each man did his best, so we went forward far more rapidly than usual, and by night had doubled the amount of work done the day before, of course moving the camp onward as we worked. We were equally industrious on the next day till noon, when an interruption came in the shape of the Kiowas.

These Indians arrived just as the sun was highest; they were of strong fighting build, all armed with guns, tomahawks, and knives. Their leader was of truly imposing size, with a sharp, sinister face, and a pair of knavish eyes that spoke no good of their owner. When I saw his face I thought it would go hard with Intschu-Tschuna and Winnetou if they fell into his hands. He was called Tangua, a word meaning Chief. Though he was there as our friend and ally, he treated us in a manner far from friendly, but came like a tiger that had joined a leopard after prey and would rend his ally the next moment.

As the chief came up he did not dismount to greet us, but made a comprehensive salute with his hand, including us all, and rode straight to our wagon and lifted the cover to look in. Its contents seemed to please him, for he dismounted and got into the wagon to examine them.

"Oho!" cried Sam Hawkins, standing beside me, "he appears to want to make up his mind as to our property before he says a word. If he thinks Sam Hawkins is stupid enough to stand like a hitching-post, he makes a mistake, as I'll show him pretty quick."

"No rashness, Sam," I begged." These two hundred fellows are too much for us."

"In numbers, yes; in wit, no," he answered. "It looks as though we had taken pretty poor accomplices, but come over to the wagon and hearken how Sam Hawkins talks to such rascals. I'm well acquainted with this Tangua, and if he doesn't know I'm here he'll have to find it out. Come on."

We had our guns in our hands, and proceeded to the wagon where Tangua was rummaging. Sam asked in a warning tone: "Does the glorious chief of the Kiowas wish to go instantly to the Happy Hunting Grounds?"

The Indian, whose back was toward us, stooping over, straightened himself, turned to us, and answered gruffly: "Why does the pale-face interrupt me with this silly-question? Tangua will rule as a great chief in the Happy Hunting Grounds in the end, but a long time must pass before he journeys there."

"That time may come in one minute."

"Why?"

"Get out of the wagon and I'll tell you; only, be quick about it."

"I will stay here."

"Good; then go up in a burst," said Sam, turning as if to go away.

The chief sprang from the wagon, seized Sam's arm, and cried: "Go up in a burst! Why does Sam Hawkins speak such words?"

"To warn you of death, which would have grabbed you in a moment if you stayed there."

"Uff! Is death in that wagon? Show him to me!"

"Later, maybe. Have not your spies told you why we are here?"

"I learned from them that you wish to make a road for the fire-horse of the pale-faces."

"That's it, and such a road goes over rivers, under ground, and through rocks; you know that, and you may have heard of the stuff with which we blow up the mighty rocks which are in the way of our fire-horse's feet. Is it that powder with which we load our guns?"

"No; the pale-faces have made another discovery by which they can overthrow whole mountains."

"Right; and this discovery we carry in that wagon, done up in packages, and if you touch it carelessly it will explode in your hands and blow you into a thousand pieces."

"Uff! Off!" he grunted, evidently shocked. "Was I near one of these packages?"

"So near that if you had not sprung down you would be this moment in the Happy Hunting Grounds. And what would you have had with you? No medicine, no scalp-lock, nothing, nothing at all, but little bits of flesh and bones. How could you rule as a great chief in the Happy Hunting Grounds in such a state? You would have been crushed under foot by the spirit-horses. An Indian who comes to the Happy Hunting Grounds without medicine or scalp-locks will be received by the dead heroes with contempt, and have to hide from their eyes while they drink deep of all Indian joys; this is the belief of the red man. What a misfortune, then, to arrive shattered into little bits!"

One could see under the dark skin that the shock had driven the blood from the chief's face, and he cried: "Ugh! how goo